At precisely 6 PM, dusk had fallen, but the sun hadn't completely set.
The curtains completely blocked out the light in Đỗ Hạ's bedroom. Aside from the faint glow occasionally emitted by her phone charging by the bedside, there wasn't a single other ray of light; the room was pitch black.
Đỗ Hạ was wrapped in a thin blanket, her eyes closed in a deep sleep.
The next second, the phone on her bedside table rang, 'ding-a-ling-ling'.
The ringing echoed.
Đỗ Hạ immediately sat up, clutching her thin blanket.
Because she sat up too quickly, she agitated the wound on her arm. Đỗ Hạ, who had been half-asleep and not fully awake, was immediately jolted wide awake by the pain.
She sat on the bed, still clutching the blanket, dazed, before slumping back down for a few minutes.
After a brief pause, she stretched out her arm and switched on the room light.
Squinting her eyes to adjust to the dazzling light, Đỗ Hạ then picked up her phone from the bedside table and turned off the alarm.
Originally, Đỗ Hạ was supposed to be on night duty at the hospital all week.
As an obstetrician, for her night shifts, Đỗ Hạ would always wake up at 6 PM, exercise, eat, then get ready and walk to the hospital.
However, today Đỗ Hạ didn't need to go to the hospital.
This morning, when she returned home from the hospital, she had been temporarily suspended by the hospital due to a medical dispute.
To say it was a temporary suspension wasn't quite accurate, because the hospital hadn't issued an official suspension notice, and her basic monthly salary was still being paid as usual.
The official reason given to outsiders was simply for her to go home and rest for a period, to recover from her injuries.
Đỗ Hạ understood that the hospital did this also out of consideration for her safety.
After all, the patient's family was a bunch of lunatics; this morning, the patient's husband had even injured her with a knife.
Although the assailant had been arrested, there were still many relatives of the patient causing trouble at the hospital. It was truly unsafe for her to go back, and could easily provoke the patient's family's hostile emotions towards the hospital.
The term "medical dispute" was not unfamiliar to Đỗ Hạ. In recent years, the relationship between doctors and patients' families had been quite tense, with news about conflicts in medical treatment frequently stirring up a commotion online.
She just hadn't thought that one day she would become the main character in such a story.
The situation was quite simple: Last night, Đỗ Hạ had admitted a pregnant woman who had fallen and suffered placental abruption. At that time, the situation was critical, requiring an immediate C-section.
After reviewing the reports, Đỗ Hạ examined and assessed that although the fetus was only 28 weeks old, its weight had reached approximately 1.5 kg, and it still had over a 60% chance of survival if delivered.
At that time, the pregnant woman's condition was extremely dangerous. Đỗ Hạ discussed with the patient's family and immediately decided to proceed with an emergency C-section.
At that time, the patient's family also agreed to the surgery and readily signed the consent form.
The first half of the surgery proceeded very smoothly. A baby girl weighing 1.63 kg was successfully delivered. Because she was premature, the infant inevitably had underdeveloped lungs and was immediately transferred to the pediatrics department for treatment.
But as Đỗ Hạ was handling the placenta, something unexpected happened.
Because of a severe placental adhesion, the pregnant woman experienced severe hemorrhage. Despite Đỗ Hạ's repeated attempts to control the bleeding, she could only consider performing a hysterectomy to stop the bleeding and save the patient's life.
Given the life-threatening situation for the mother, Đỗ Hạ truly hadn't thought the family would refuse to sign the pre-operative consent form.
Although Đỗ Hạ had heard her seniors talk about such situations, she was still young herself. The patient was only 23, and her husband wasn't much older, so Đỗ Hạ felt that young people would surely be easier to communicate with.
However, the nurse went out twice to speak with the family, explaining the situation to them in detail.
Yet, the family, who were usually easy to talk to, refused to sign anything, constantly pleading with the doctors to save his wife's uterus.
This was their first child, and not only was it a girl, but it was also born prematurely.
Just moments ago, when the doctor wheeled the baby to the pediatrics department, he had clearly seen it: shriveled, thin, and tiny. He'd heard its lungs weren't fully developed, and at present, it was uncertain if it would even survive.
If his wife's uterus was removed, and this child didn't make it, wouldn't his family's ancestral line be completely severed?
“We have to operate. Your wife's situation is extremely critical. She's already lost two bags of blood; it's gushing out like a faucet. If you don't sign, your wife's life will be in danger. We are not trying to scare you.”